


Phil's Gifts

by Cuppatea13



Series: The Stories of Arlie [10]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Interlude, daddy!Phil, goofballs, they're killing me, this whole family though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuppatea13/pseuds/Cuppatea13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wonder the stories behind all the gifts the Barton siblings have found for Phil? Well, now you can find out! (Main story is: Reliant, this is an interlude.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This interlude is for silent song of shadows (over on ff.net), who wanted an interlude about the Bartons finding the Captain America cards for Phil. I decided to run with it and I'm writing how they found pretty much every Captain America themed gift they've ever given him. Hence, why this is only part one.
> 
> Anyways, read, review, request more interludes, enjoy!

**The Sixth Card- Christmas 2002 (Clint)**

It was sometime in the third month of working at SHIELD that I noticed that Phil has two Captain America cards that he's insanely proud of. One is a picture of the Captain in a classic Uncle Sam "want YOU to join the US Army" pose with the words "Buy War Bonds- Have You Done Enough?" written along the top and bottom. The other is some weird cartoon drawing of the man running towards you, shouting, with something I assume is mustard gas (I really didn't look that closely except to notice it was number 15) coming up around him.

But when it comes to Christmas, the third one I've had since joining SHIELD, and, more importantly, the third one spent with Phil- I need something really good for his present. I didn't even get Phil a gift that first Christmas, and the second one I got some half-assed book about the CIA that was not personalized at all. I mean, really. Phil's been more than great to me- he listened to me talk about Barney and hasn't judged me once for all the things I've done. When I get quiet (around holidays for family, Arlie's birthday), he doesn't really push, just lets me know he's there.

Yeah- Phil deserves a kick ass present this year and every year for the rest of his life.

So I scour the internet. I'm not the best with technology, I'll admit it- haven't had much time to practice with computers. But seriously- some Captain America vintage cards should not be this damn hard to find.

Phil sends me on a mission in Egypt and it's sweltering hot and sand gets  _everywhere_  and I'm dodging some bullets when I duck into a tiny little shop to hide behind some old junk they're selling. I turn around to place my back to the wall and pull out a gun (I've already used my bow for the assassination, don't want to leave more arrows lying around- it's the fourteenth one I've lost since joining SHIELD and I like my arrows. Plus- harder to track me when I swap weapons.) and then I see it.

A huge pile of vases. Perfect cover rather than the wall that has so many holes in it I think it must be an architectural thing- you can't get it like this by accident. Can you? Regardless, I duck behind them and I find the surprised shopkeeper. He's holding up his hands in surrender and I just stare, because in his right hand is a card. A freakin' Captain America number 6 trading card where the Cap is wearing some ratty clothes over his stars and stripes uniform, deflecting bullets with his shield and I've been searching for something like that for  _weeks_  and here it is in some shopkeeper's dirty hand in  _Cairo_.

What the  _hell_  is something like that doing in Cairo?

I take a look at the shopkeeper, he's terrified and quickly, in some pretty damn good Egyptian Arabic (if I do say so myself- I taught myself the language while putzing around her for the past two weeks waiting for my target to give me an opening) I offer to get out of his shop completely in exchange for the card.

I've never been handed something so quickly in my life.

Phil's going to  _love_  this.

* * *

**The Tenth Card- Christmas 2003**

I actually found one on the internet this year and it cost me a pretty penny. But, I broke out money from the account I had as a free-lance assassin (something I refuse to touch unless it's to do something for someone else) and looking at the balance on that account, it suddenly didn't seem to cost so much on EBay.

Some asshole almost outbid me though. I wish I could send threats through the computer, but Phil told me I wasn't allowed to do that last week when I was trying to get some old stuff on EBay that I had seen on there that used to belong to Carson's. I couldn't just leave our old stuff lying around like that with vultures descending, so I tried to nab it before anyone else did.

Phil is a lot nicer than me with people online.

But I got the card, and I know Phil's going to be amazed by me since I've managed to snag  _two_ Cards for him now- doubling what he had when he met me.

 _Yeah, I'm that good,_  I think as I lean back in my chair having finally placed the highest bid.

I also might be visualizing the asshole fuming before his computer after having lost the card to me.

Nobody's perfect.

* * *

**The Mug- Christmas 2004**

My best efforts have not yielded me a Cap card this year. And I've been looking- even in little hole-in-the-wall places while on missions. It was while I was searching one such place in Slovakia that I found a Captain America Mug.

Jesus, they make everything in this guy's style.

I shrug and grab it- there's only a few days left till Christmas and it looks like I won't be getting Phil a card this year. He'll have to settle for a mug made in his hero's honor.

Phil still grins like an idiot and tells me he loves it when he opens it up on Christmas, so I guess anything Cap is fine by the man.

Good to know.

* * *

**The Helmet- Christmas 2005**

"So you definitely want something Captain America- it doesn't have to be a card?" Arlie asks after a few minutes of sitting at her computer. I'm glad to have someone else to look through the online stuff this year- my eyes might fall out if I stare at a screen one minute longer, but Arlie seems immune to my problems.

"Yeah- anything vintage is good, really," I say as I pull out her salsa. She's got a bag of chips around here somewhere….

"Found something!" my sister says with a squeal. I abandon the search for the chips (I'll ask her later) and go over to see what she's snagged.

"I don't see a picture- this isn't EBay," I say, scowling at her computer screen. Arlie clicks a few buttons and up pops a picture of a helmet. Or, rather, the helmet. It's a kid's toy version of the Captain America helmet for whoever might like to pretend to be the Cap for a few minutes during recess or summer break.

"Awesome. But how are we getting it?" I ask, turning to my sister.

"Well, I was tracking down memorabilia, not just the stuff that's for sale, and I found this is in the hands of one Kostandin Baris, who lives in Des Moines and he is…a less than sterling citizen."

She shows me a few more things on the computer screen, proving Mr. Baris has some dealings with drugs.

"But he's not selling the helmet so what…oh." I look at my sister.

She shrugs, "I thought the whole point of SHIELD was to help protect people. Drugs are very dangerous, you know." Her eyes are big and she's playing at being innocent. I sweep her out of her chair to give her a hug.

"You're brilliant," I tell her, "And I think this calls for a road trip to Des Moines!"

"I quite agree," she says, smiling, "And look- I work from home most of the time so I don't even need to request time off."

"You get the snacks, I'll go pack."

"No, I'll get the snacks,  _and_  pack. I don't know who taught you how to pack up a suitcase, but they did a terrible job. You get this stuff from the printer and get us a car with a full tank of gas."

When we meet with Mr. Baris he's more than a little on the pathetic side, but I make Arlie wait in the car anyways. I come out within fifteen minutes with the Cap Helmet and she's already dialing the police to leave an anonymous tip to check out Mr. Baris for heroin.

"I just promised the man I wouldn't say anything if he gave me the helmet," I teasingly scold her as I put the car into gear.

"You did,  _I_  didn't."

"Good point. Phil's going to love this."

"We so win best gift givers in the universe for this."

"Nah," I tell her, "I own that title alone- I got him  _two_ Cap cards."

"Challenge accepted, then," she says as she examines the helmet.

"I still don't really see the big deal about Captain America," she tells me. I just shrug.

* * *

**The Second Card- Christmas 2006**

"I found one!" Arlie practically squeals as soon as I answer the phone with "Barton."

"Found what?"

"Clint- it's almost Christmas, what do you think I'll be looking for?"

"You found a Cap card?" I practically whisper. Phil's nowhere around, but I still feel the need to keep this secret.

"Number 2- please tell me he doesn't have that one."

"No, he doesn't," I say. "Where is it?"

"It's currently owned by a Mrs. Robert Wilson who lives in New York and she's not selling, but I don't think she realizes what it's worth, since she seems to be having a bit of trouble making ends meet. I think we should do a Good Samaritan thing."

"You want me to open up my account?"

"It's a good cause, Clint! Getting Phil a Cap card  _and_  helping Mrs. Wilson. She's all alone- doesn't have any children or grandchildren, she's a widow. She's struggling to make ends meet. I'm not saying we should force her to sell the card- tell her we want it, but we'll help her out either way."

"And how are we going to explain the money we somehow have? We're not a charity registered with the government, munchkin."

"No- but we might have some old family money that we're trying to get rid of."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because clearly we don't need all of it, bird brain. Just help me here!"

"Ok, fine- but you do all the talking with her, this is yours. Fury just told me I'm working this week."

"Ok, I'll talk to Mrs. Wilson. And you be careful, ok?"

"I promise, munchkin."

"Shut up, bird brain."

"Go get that card!"

"Fine! Bye!"

About a week later, I'm setting it up so Mrs. Wilson gets steady deposits into her account every month to help her make ends meet. She shouldn't have to worry about money for the rest of her life. Phil's look when we tell him the story behind his new card and the hug Arlie give me for it are perhaps the best Christmas gifts I've ever gotten.


	2. Part 2

**The Shield- July 4th, 2007 (Arlie)**

"I like flea markets," Clint insists to me, but I just roll my eyes. He's been dragging me around all day and since it's July, it's  _hot_  and I want a department store with air conditioning, not an outdoor flea market. But Mr. Super-spy-trained-for-shit barely notices the rising temperature or shrugs and says "it's worse in so-and-so."

I've decided to strangle him with my bare hands when I see it. My eyes widen, my hand shoots out to grip my brother's arm tightly to stop him from walking away. Clint sees my face and immediately assumes the worst, stepping closer to me, hand falling to one of his concealed weapons, eyes scanning the crowd. Then he sees it, too.

"Oh, man."

"Right?" I ask in a breathless voice, heat forgotten. There, in a bin filled with stuff, we can faintly see the star of Captain America. My brother and I look at each other briefly before hustling over there.

"Hello, how are you?" says the person whose stall this is.

"Hi, we're good, how are you?" I answer while my brother begins digging through the bin with a vengeance.

"Oh, could be cooler," the salesperson jokes. I laugh and nod in agreement with her before I go to help Clint.

We finally get down to what had been barely visible except for a Captain America star and we softly gasp.

"Oh, yeah," said the woman, "That's some old toy my granddad had. We're cleaning out all his old stuff, trying to get rid of it. You like it?"

I turn to look at the salesperson, incredulous. How does she not realize what this is?

I examine the replica Shield. They had made this for kids to play with, but they were supposed to be the actual size of Cap's own Shield. "How much would you like for it?" I ask. I have maybe ten bucks in my pocket and there's no ATM in sight. I've got no clue what Clint has on him, but we've been shopping pretty much all day so it can't be much.

The woman thinks for a moment and then says, "Fifteen?"

I pull out my ten and look at Clint. He fishes around his wallet and finally pulls out four ones and some change to make up the other dollar.

"Thanks so much," I say, "Our dad loves stuff like this and he'll be over the moon when we give it to him."

"Oh- late Father's Day gift?" the salesperson asks.

"No- his birthday's coming up soon," Clint says, as he struggles to fit the replica Shield into his bag.

"Oh, well I hope he likes it! I'm glad to get it out of my house," she jokes.

"Oh my god- I can't believe we found that," I say to Clint as we walk back to my apartment. "I guess flea markets aren't so bad."

Clint grins and throws an arm around my shoulders, ignoring the sticky heat that makes me cringe away from his body heat, "I knew I'd convince you."

"Wasn't you- Captain America convinced me."

"Damn- you like Captain America better than me?" My brother plays at being offended, but he's grinning as I laugh at him.

"Oh, duh."

* * *

**The T-Shirt- Christmas 2007**

I'm walking through the department store with Tasha (who is  _much_  more sensible about shopping than my brother- she likes air conditioning in the summer and heat in the winter) when I pass by an old thrift store.

"Come on," I tell Tasha, "In here."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why?" You can always trust Tasha to tell it to you straight; she won't go into this thrift store until I tell her why.

"When I was growing up, a lot of my clothes were from thrift stores. It was cheap and easy for the families that were taking care of me, and for the orphanages- they were able to buy a lot of clothes for a lot of kids. I hated it forever, until one day one of the girls told me to make a game out of it. You have to find the most hideous thing you can and whoever you're playing with has to try it on. Winner is the person who looks least like an idiot."

Tasha raises an eyebrow at me and seems to think for a moment. "Ok," she finally pronounces and she follows me into the store.

I know Tasha doesn't want to play this game with me, but seeing the thrift store just brought back memories of doing this while skirting around directors and foster parents and I want to do it with someone who I know I'll still be hanging around with in a year and without having to sneak around disapproving adults.

I'm digging through a bin in an attempt to find a hideous Christmas sweater I can force Tasha to wear and then maybe buy for Clint as a joke, when I come across it. It's an old tee shirt, worn in all the right places to be comfortable, and it's got a design on the front- Captain America's star.

I swear I could recognize that symbol in my sleep by now.

"Tasha!" I yell and she's with me in seconds, scanning the room for potential threats. God, she has been spending  _way_  too much time with my brother. "Look," I say, showing her the shirt. Both eyebrows twitch but stay in place as she examines it.

"It is still in relatively decent shape," she declares, "And it's Phil's size. You want to get him this for Christmas?"

"From both of us- Clint will be all upset because he hasn't found anything Cap related for Phil this Christmas. We'll definitely get points for awesome present skills."

"There's a point system?" asks Tasha, her eyebrows coming together.

"Not one anybody follows," I tell her with a shrug. "It's really more metaphoric."

* * *

**The Ninth Card- July 4th, 2008**

"So I'm in Singapore," my brother says when I answer the phone.

"God- is this going to cost me? Clint- I don't have international calling free of charge."

"Shut up, munchkin it's fine. Now listen- check your list of Captain America memorabilia. I want to know if there is anything in Singapore. I remember something on there being here."

I go over to my computer and boot it up. I'd compiled my list of Captain America memorabilia and have several programs running to track it down across the world. I've followed it throughout time- from sales to wills that bequeath things away, to simply being lost in the records until it pops up one day in someone's living room.

I've even got a program that searches social media for mentions of Cap stuff.

"Singapore, Singapore," I say under my breath as I quickly scan through the list I have. The back of my head wonders what Clint's even doing in Singapore since his mission was originally in Thailand. I assume that his target has started running, but my brother's paused his hunt to look for Captain America stuff for Phil's birthday. We haven't gotten him anything really good since Christmas two years ago. And by really good I mean a card. Phil loves the other stuff, but his passion is the cards.

" _Shit_ \- Clint- there's a card in Singapore!" I tell him.

"Where?" my brother asks.

I give him the address of an auction house that plans to sell it off and I tell my brother to break out some cash from his pre-SHIELD account. My brother makes good money with SHIELD, and is so well set up now he could retire and live to be about ninety on his savings, not including the pre-SHIELD account. Modestly, but he could do it. However, with his search for redemption, and the knowledge that if he ever did retire, there would be a line around the block of people waiting to kill him, it's not really going to happen.

About four hours later Clint calls me.

"I've got it, it's a number nine card with the  _weirdest_  shit on it," he tells me, sounding almost perplexed.

"What is it?"

"It's a cartoon drawing of Cap and he's fighting…a sea monster? It's got "Horror Seas" written on it with some cheesy font."

"Phil won't care- he'll love it."

"Damn right he will. Those programs you made are amazing."

"I know," I say with a cheeky grin. My brother just chuckles and tells me he'll be home in a few days.

"Don't lose Cap while you're over there- I'll never forgive you."

"I won't lose your precious Captain, Arlie. Promise."

* * *

**The Fourth Card- Christmas 2008**

Clint tells me he's going to Tanzania and I immediately search the list for any Cap stuff that might be there.

"Well, there's nothing in my programs," I tell him with a sigh.

"Crap, but it's almost Christmas. We need to find something soon."

"I know, we'll get him something. We just might not be able to manage anything Captain America-related."

"Well, I'll keep my eyes peeled anyway. You never know. Did I tell you about how I found the first card I gave him in Cairo?"

"Only about a million times, bird brain."

"Alright, alright- no need to be so snappy. I'll see you in a few weeks, ok?"

"Yeah, be careful."

When he comes home his arm is in a sling since his shoulder had been badly dislocated and he hadn't been able to pop it back in for himself (ew.) but he's got a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What?" I ask. He keeps grinning. " _What_?"

"You're program doesn't know shit."

"Huh?"

He whips out something from his pocket and holds it in front of my face. It's so close to my nose I have trouble focusing on it but when I do I see Captain America striding towards me with determination in his eyes and some dingy clothes over his stars-and-stripes uniform, shield in hand.

"Damn. Is that a number four card?"

"Damn right it is. I found it in Tanzania."

"Where?"

"You'll never guess."

I wait for him to tell me. After realizing I'm not going to guess, he tells me.

"Ok- a Captain America card in a church? No  _way_  is Phil going to believe us."

"Who are you kidding? Phil would totally keep his cards in a church."

* * *

**The Pajamas- July 4th, 2009**

This year we literally couldn't find anything for Phil's birthday. We were getting more and more frustrated when I finally came up with a solution.

"Why don't we just make him something? Isn't that supposed to be more meaningful or some crap?"

"Yeah- except neither of us is really good in the arts and crafts department," my brother sighs. "I can make arrows, and you can make computer stuff appear out of thin air but anything else," he throws up his hands in a gesture of nothing-ness with a "pfft" sound.

"We could always have something custom-made. That's like making something, right? Just because we didn't do it doesn't make it less meaningful. Yeah?"

My brother thinks carefully for a long moment, "What should we have made? Captain America tee shirt?"

"Tasha and I already got him one."

"From a thrift store."

"Still counts."

"Well, he already has a mug, too."

"Cuff-links?"

"No- that's just weird."

"Doll?" I giggle. Clint starts cracking up, imagining Phil cuddling a Captain America doll.

"I can just see him! Oh my god, I can't stop laughing." We both know Phil should not be messed with, but an image of a little Phil at about five years old holding a Captain America doll is too priceless for words.

"I've got it!" my brother says between laughs, "We should have custom Captain America pajamas made!"

I'm roaring with laughter now but I have enough energy to nod and open up my computer to search for a company who will make us custom Captain America pajamas.

Phil's face when he opened up his gift was priceless.

Clint and I didn't stop laughing for days.


	3. Part 3

**The Seventh Card- Christmas 2009 (Arlie)**

"We should probably make up for all the teasing with the pajamas this Christmas," I tell my brother and he nods.

"We need another card," he declares, and tries to open up my program. I take my computer away before he breaks it. My brother is incredibly smart about a lot of things, but technology is not one of them.

"Let me look, there's one in Czech Republic, there's one in England,"

"You want to go on a weekend trip to England?" my brother asks before I even finish listing.

I think about it, "I've never been to England."

"Whenever I'm there I'm working."

"Can we really just go off to England?"

"Sure- we can invite Phil and Tasha along and sneak away one night to get Phil his card."

"Phil won't go- he's been busy trying to get that Avengers Initiative approved."

"Tasha'll go- she's been getting bored."

"How can you tell?" I ask, then continue without waiting for an answer- only my brother can read Tasha properly, it's something I attribute to them practically being soul mates. Which is strange to think of since they do  _not_  act like it.

Well, unless you're really looking.

"I hope this isn't a card he already has," Tasha says dryly a few days later as we search through England for a Mr. Waverly who had inherited a Captain America card (among other things) when his Aunt died seven years ago, according to my records.

"Me too," I say at the same time Clint replies "It won't be."

Mr. Waverly is a bit reluctant to part with his card, but Tasha starts talking to him and within fifteen minutes he is willing to practically give it to us. I make Clint pay him anyways, but we walk away with a massive new appreciation for Tasha's manipulation skills.

And a Captain America Number Seven Card.

* * *

**The Fifth Card- July 4, 2010**

Clint was in Rome on a job, and I had always wanted to go there, so I just happened to schedule my vacation to Italy the same time Clint was in the city of Seven Hills.

What a coincidence.

We're window shopping, chatting about Tasha perhaps finishing her mission early and joining us when Clint sees his target talking to what looked like a dealer. He makes me promise to stay out of the way and goes after the guy, but the dealer starts running away- in the direction of me.

I might have tripped him.

And I might have knocked him unconscious.

I look around and realize my brother is nowhere to be seen- so I grab the dealer and, using some tricks Tasha taught me, got us out of the way without anyone noticing. I probably looked like a girl helping her drunk boyfriend back home. That was the plan, at least.

The dealer comes to about an hour later, and finds that I've tied up his hands and feet and he won't be going  _anywhere_. Phil taught me how to tie knots- the only way out of those things is a knife.

Clint is suddenly beside me, looking panicked and then he notices the dealer.

"Kansas?" he says, warning in his tone. I shrug.

"I didn't know if you needed him or not. Besides- what was he doing?"

"It was just a deal, nothing important- some drugs," the man begins chattering nervously. Clint and I look at each other, confused. What could be so bad that he'd pretend to be dealing drugs rather than his true purpose?

My brother goes over and begins patting the guy down, finding listings of black market shops and dealers, with flash drives containing- no doubt- more information, but it's not for drugs.

"You deal black market…collectibles?"

"There's probably a lot more money in that than in drugs, if you play your cards right," I tell Clint. The dealer, strangely, nods at my statement.

"She's right. Drugs are risky- everyone looks for drugs- and too many of your clientele ends up dead sooner rather than later," he is  _actually_  explaining this to us, "Collectors are as obsessive as druggies and are willing to pay top dollar just to  _see_  something, let alone actually buy it! Better business to be in- and safer for those who keep their noses clean, too. And it's practically disease-free."

"Well, I'm convinced," I joke to my brother. He just rolls his eyes and keeps going through the guy's stuff.

"We're going to have to hand him over to White Collar," he says, "But…hold on." Clint pulls out something that looks almost like an old-fashioned cigarette case- but it's the wrong size. He opens it up and  _damn_.

"Is that a Captain America Number Five Card?" I say, looking over my brother's shoulder.

I examine the picture in the dim light of the alley way we're hiding in. The Cap is in tattered clothes, his shield not his usual round one, but the original shield that was shaped almost like the family crests you see for royalty. He's got a dull blue-silver helmet on, and is looking off to the side.

"Shit," Clint breathes out.

"Listen," the dealer says, "You let me off with a warning, and that card is yours."

My brother and I exchange a look. I know he already wasn't really planning on handing the dealer over to anyone, since the guy had seen me and Clint working together, and my over-protective bird brain of a brother doesn't want anyone to ever connect us. The guy was mostly harmless, from all appearances and we didn't really know anyone in the White Collar division of Italy anyways.

"Done," my brother says, cutting the guy loose and letting him go.

"Phil's going to love that- it comes with its own case!" I say. "His birthday  _is_  coming up."

"This is good, but no more taking out people, ok?"

"Fine, bird brain," I say sighing, "But I just hope you realize how hypocritical you're sounding."

* * *

**The Socks- Christmas 2010**

"We've got one day till Christmas." I tell my brother.

"Yup."

"We've got something for Tasha, something for each other, but nothing for Phil."

My brother just hums.

"Wait- you did remember to get me a present, right?"

"Yes, munchkin," he says while rolling his eyes and smiling at me, "I remembered to get you a present."

"Ooooh. What'd I get?" I say, bouncing a little on the couch, "Wait- no- distracted. What are we going to get Phil?"

"I haven't got a clue."

"We could order more custom PJs," I suggest, "I'm pretty sure he burned the last pair just to avoid anyone finding them and teasing him."

"No- Phil would never burn Captain America pajamas out of shame," Clint sighs. "What else do they sell that would be customized like that? I mean: mugs, tee shirts, pajamas,"

"I still say we should get him Captain America cuff-links."

"Phil doesn't use cuff-links."

"You're missing the point."

"Actually, I think  _you_  are, munchkin."

"So what are  _you_  thinking then, bird brain- since you've got the point obviously?"

My brother looks around the room and sighs. The returns to his examination of my apartment- this time, though, I think he's looking for food.

I sigh. My brother and his stomach. There'll be nothing getting done until he has a snack in his hand.

"I'll get you some food if you get your feet off my coffee table," I bargain. He grins and places his feet on the floor. Suddenly, he jumps up.

"That's it!"

"What? A Captain America coffee table? I don't think they make those."

"Go online- find some Captain America socks!"

I think for a moment, two.

"I can do that."

* * *

**The Tenth Card- July 4th, 2011**

"Ok- we need something extra cool in honor of this year," I tell my brother as we begin our semi-annual hunt for Captain America memorabilia.

"Why?" he ask, looking over at me, "Is it an anniversary? Silver or something?"

"No, bird brain- because they found him!"

"Oh- right. Well, what do you have?"

"Do you speak Slovak?"

"I can learn."

"You want to get a Number Ten card?"

"I'll go pack."

"No-  _I'll_  pack, you go learn Slovak."

It's really strange watching my brother learn a language- because he doesn't usually bother learning to read or write in it, he just learns the spoken language. He'll start off watching movies with subtitles, then tv shows without them, then he goes to the country and just sits around outside and listens to people. He's got an ear for things that's almost unnatural.

We're sitting in a local restaurant trying some different dishes which I can't pronounce but Clint can order with the local dialect when I pull out my packet of information.

"Ok- here's the shtick. We've got a Number Ten Captain America Card owned by this woman here, Zlata Sykora."

"What's her deal?" Clint asks through a mouthful of food.

"Ew- chew and swallow before you talk," I sigh, "Anyways- she's been buying a lot of Captain America memorabilia online in past years- but never any cards besides this one. Originally, the card was owned by her father, Roger Sykora. About five years ago, he died, she inherited the card, and she stopped buying Cap stuff. She's sold off some of it bit by bit."

"What are you saying?"

"Clint- how much Cap gear have we bought?'

"A lot."

"Have we kept any of it?"

"No- we give it to- oh. I see- you think she was buying Cap gear for her father?"

"I do. The trick is going to be convincing her to part with his card."

"We could always steal it."

"That might actually be easier, but let's not- Phil wouldn't like it."

He sighs, "Well, we can't upset Phil this close to his birthday."

"Nope."

"And I don't think I should teach my baby sister how to steal."

"Not a baby."

"Baby to me."

"You're only two years older, bird brain."

The waitress comes up and begins speaking to my brother and I sit back while he settles the bill and then we walk out to find Sykora.

This could be tricky.

Zlata Sykora  _really_  does not want to sell her card. And she doesn't speak English so she and Clint are conversing in Slovak while I sit by uselessly. She talks about how it was her father's and while she's willing to get rid of some of the smaller things she had bought for him herself over the years, she doesn't want to give up his one card.

Clint's talking and talking and I'm pretty sure he's going to actually get blue in the face soon when I nudge him.

"Tell her it's for our father."

"Huh?"

"Tell her, it's for our father- tell her about Phil. Describe Phil to her."

"What will that do."

"Just- trust me, bird brain."

And so Clint turns back and begins to talk. I watch as his voice becomes happier, his hand gestures become broader, and Zlata Sykora starts smiling at us and nodding.

"Tell her," I order my brother, "That things like that card should be kept alive- shouldn't be left in some album somewhere to be looked at in memory of just one person- fathers like ours are amazing and rare, and fathers that love Cap- well, they're their own special brand of fatherhood. Tell her we love our dad- tell her we want to give him this not because he's a Captain America fan, but because he's our father. Tell her- what would her father think Captain America would do?"

My brother translates even as I speak, and our voices overlap as we work to bring one more Cap card home to Phil.

Sykora nods and smiles.

We've got the card.


End file.
